Glad I'm Not You

Glad I’m Not You

A Most Bizarre Road to Nuptials

We tried to tell her—multiple times—and she just wouldn’t listen. The three of us had been friends since middle school, but Kellie was always a little . . . different. Her mother would give the most outrageous advice, like if a stoplight took too long you can beep and go. She would always add emphatically, “It is perfectly legal!”

The issue this time was a big one. Kellie was getting married. We were all very excited for her, but there was a cost issue. She had a lot of friends, but she and her fiancé were barely making ends meet. Her parents lived paycheck to paycheck and her fiancé tried to slip a little money to his mom each month. Long story short, they had a very tight wedding budget.

We met at Arlene’s house for lunch one afternoon. After lamenting over many scenarios Kellie said she had it figured it out.

“So, are you going to elope then?” Arlene asked as we sat down. “I mean it is the most cost effective and it is romantic. You know I’m giving you a shower to help with gifts.”

Kellie shook her head. “This is what I’m going to do: I’m going to shave down the guest list.”

Arlene looked dubious. “We tried that.”

“Yeah, but here’s how I am going to do it. I’m going to take out people I don’t know.”

“Why would you invite people you don’t know to your wedding?” I asked.

“Well. . . okay, for instance there is this girl at my work I am inviting. I like her and we go out sometimes, but I don’t know her husband. Why should I invite him? He is just an extra cost.”

“But who is she going to go with then?”

“She can go by herself.”

Arlene cried out, “That’s lame! You can’t just invite people by themselves. Who is she going to dance with? That’s why people always state the person and a plus one on the card.”

“I don’t even know him! I don’t want to pay for him! And I don’t want to pay for other people I don’t know!” Kellie cried out in exasperation.

There was a stunned silence.

“Okay, how about if I just invite people I know and their significant other if they have been going out for three years or more?”

“There’s an expiration date?” I asked thinking about my own life. My boyfriend and I of three and a half years had just split. I was still licking my wounds, seeing he had left me for a more “active” person. “Ok let’s just say I call Joe and he agrees to go. That’s okay?”

“No,” Kellie explained, “because you guys are already broken up and we all know that. Besides he was unworthy of you. He was boring. Talk about inactive; she’s just making all the plans for them right now and one day she will get sick of it and leave him.”

I smiled,’ Thank you for that, but the point I am trying to make is it doesn’t make sense.”

Arlene nodded in agreement. “I’m sure it is not in any of the etiquette books.”

Kellie held her head high. “But it is what I am doing.”

The months leading up to the wedding where a whirlwind. Arlene and I had a shower with tons of food and games. I received my invitation in the mail addressed to just me. I called our mutual friend Mike and asked if was invited.

“Yeah, I just got an invitation made out to me. Can I bring a date?”

“You can bring me,” I replied. “She is only inviting couples that have been together three years or longer.”

“Oh, is that how these wedding things work?”

“No, it’s how she works.”

“Yeah, I thought it was kind of . . . weird.”

“It is.”

It was a month before the wedding and Kellie did have a dress. She began to panic.

“I need you guys to help me,” she pleaded to Arlene and me. “Everything I like is $1000 or more.”

“That’s about normal,” I said. “Where have you been going?”

“I haven’t. I just looked on the internet. I also went to two thrift stores and a pawn shop, but they didn’t have anything that fit.”

“Well, you may find something nice there, but you have to consider time now,” I replied.

Arlene was ignoring us, rooting around in a stack of newspapers. “I found it! A sale at Jacks! Close out prices!” she announced holding up the paper.

It only took ten minutes to find a dress for $99.

“I love it,” Kellie gushed. “Except I wish it had sleeves. I have fat arms.” She looked down. “It’s a little long.”

“You can get it altered. I mean, it is a pretty good price and it shouldn’t cost much to get it altered. They can probably do it right here in the store,” Arlene offered.

Kellie hesitated. “Yeah, there’s a place by my apartment I can go to.”

Kellie paid for the dress and we began to leave the store. We had taken separate cars. We said our goodbyes but before I could get in my car, Kellie ran up to me, handing me the dress.”

“Can you keep the dress at your house? I don’t want David to see it.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said walking away.

“Wait, for what?” I asked, bewildered. We didn’t have plans.

She stopped walking. “I know you sew. You can alter the dress for me.”

“What? I sew buttons on and rips in clothing. This is your wedding dress!”

“It will be fine!” she said skipping away.

I did end up sewing her dress and the day before the wedding I was happy to get the thing out of my house. She was constantly coming over to show it to people even on nights when I had to work early the next day. The alteration was crooked, but at this point I didn’t care. You get what you pay for.

The morning of the wedding I went to David’s best friend’s shop. He owned a surf shop next to the beach area where they planned to marry. He was a nice guy.

“What’s up?” I asked.

He smiled over at me, “Nuthin’.” Then he frowned. “Friggin’ Kellie. Did you get one of these?” He handed me an index card that read: “Please rake up all the debris from the beach where we will be married, including seaweed, and dispose of it.”

I looked up at him, “Wow! I guess everybody is doing something. I had to alter her dress. Did you do it?”

“Yeah, with a wheelbarrow at six in the morning. I’m doing it for David, but I don’t think he even knows what she is doing. I mean isn’t she embarrassed? “

“Apparently not.”

Mike and I decided to drive separately and meet at the wedding. It was on a public beach and even though there were signs about a wedding and people were asked to leave no one really did. There were no seats, so Mike and I trudged out to the sand where we could decipher the guests from the beach patrons by their formal wear. My heels sunk and the sand burned the tops of my feet. Finally, the officiant (a friend) wrapped up the vows and we were told to meet for the reception at an empty office building (owned by a friend) in an hour.

Mike and I met up with some other friends and killed some time eating appetizers and drinks at a bar near the building. Even though we had not been gone the full hour all the food (prepared by a friend and vegetarian to avoid meat costs) was gone. The D.J. (also a friend) was already throwing out tunes and the usual wedding dancing was in full swing. The bar was a row of coolers, so Mike got us drinks and I sat down.

“What did you have to do?” he asked.

“You too? I altered the wedding dress.”

“I had to set up the tables and chairs.”

Just then Kellie’s niece came over and gave me a card.

“Wait. . . what?” I asked as she walked away.

“It says, ‘Wait for the guests to leave. Clear all the tables. Place trash in bags and all cans/bottles can be bagged and put in Joy’s van so she can recycle them. Thanks and have a blessed day.’”

“I guess you’ll be staying here a little longer,” he shook his head in astonishment. “Good thing we took separate cars. I don’t think I’m going to make it that long. “He looked at me with empathy. “Want to dance it off?”

I danced with Mike and other friends, congratulated the couple and waited, but inside I was fuming. As the last guests begin to leave, I began to clean up, noticing there was a ton of half-filled cups.

I asked her niece if she had a bucket.

“No,” she said.

“So, I have to bring all these cups to the sink to dump them? Do you have a tray?”

She looked around as if one would magically appear. “No.”

I trekked back over to the tables, constantly going back and forth to the sink. I was able to fill one bag of recyclables and asked to be directed to Joy’s van.

“Down the stairs,” said another roped in guest.

The stairs were rickety I was wearing high heels. I felt like any minute I would fall and tumble to paralysis or death. I made it down, but on the way up I decided to take off my heels.

Eww! Every step was sticky and gritty. It was so gross. That was it. When I got to the top of the stairs, I put my gritty, sticky feet back into my heels and walked out the door.

“Your leaving?” called her niece. “What about the clean up?”

“Look,” I said trying to keep my voice even. “I know this is not your fault, but I almost killed myself on the stairs. I have altered her dress and given her $200 for her wedding. She can PAY for help.”

And with that I left embarrassed for the bride’s behavior and rethinking my friendship with her.